


Feel It All Over Now (And I Feel Loved)

by sincehewaseighteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, football au, mascot au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincehewaseighteen/pseuds/sincehewaseighteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis thinks Harry's in LA, but he's actually the mascot who keeps throwing random shapes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel It All Over Now (And I Feel Loved)

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii so i made a prompt on tumblr and people told me to write it and yo.
> 
> i don't actually know what happened at the stadium, i literally don't know the order of events so i put everything together to how i would interpret it. also, i don't actually know if the bear is harry (i don't think it is lmao) but keep it here.
> 
> title is from i'm a mess by ed sheeran because i'm seriously a fucking mess after seeing louis today i really cant deal with this bullshit. kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. x

Louis tucks himself into a warm sleep by one in the morning, his boyfriend's voice still ringing into his ears; his ramblings about his work in LA. The days towards seeing him seem a forever and a day away and it makes matters worse that his footie game is going to be one important person short yet again. He wouldn't say it's Harry's fault. Work is always an overloading hassle in Los Angeles. With Louis' own busy schedule and relentless workload in London, he can safely put himself in Harry's shoes and see why he can't make it to the UK this weekend.

But that's okay. Harry had stayed with him for two hours over the phone, half the time only listening to each other's soft sighs and yawns. They'd both contemplated hanging up at twelve; Harry knew his boy had a match tomorrow afternoon and rather he'd get the sleep he still hasn't caught up on from the tour. Those contemplatives never fall into action, however. It often leads to hurried topic sentences to keep each other on the line for as long as possible.

So it's quiet by 1:15, Harry still running tirelessly through Louis' mind. The duvet is up at his chin, legs kicked out from underneath to feel cool air swimming through his leg hairs. It's been lonely in the bed, incredibly lonely. He wants Harry to come home, maybe even for a day, to warm up the bed, to keep it warm, to make sure that spot - his bed crease - doesn't get filled with dust particles.

The smile that has split his face only half an hour ago has been replaced with a feeble frown. He hides himself, now chilled to the bone, and tries to keep himself cocooned with faith that he'll be able to power through tomorrow and win this game.

 

**

  
Harry had called him at an unusual time of morning. Louis had to look at his phone time and the kitchen clock to really check if Harry would be eagerly messaging him to call him up at eleven in the morning.

Maybe something was that important that Harry would call Louis up when it's three in the morning over in LA. Maybe is to wish him more good luck than he's already received. Sweet and not particularly unusual. Harry's very supportive in that way. A lovely guy, he is. It's probably why Louis wants to marry him.

But when Louis called, it's like Harry wasn't even tired at all, or anything, really. The first thing Louis had expected was Harry to be half pissed and giggling at one of those hippie clubs he always heads to. But... no. Harry's... fine? He sounded like he'd just woken up and had his first out of too many bowls of Cheerios. Odd.

Harry had left him with a dial tone after a few short minutes, babbling a string of good luck's mixed with a few I love you's here and there. Louis sighed into his morning tea and scrolled through the few messages from Liam as more good luck rained on him.

By twelve he had helped his mum with the little tots and spent some quality time with his younger siblings. Phoebe's on his back after a forced piggyback ride from kitchen to lounge, both of them suffocating in giggles when they topple into the couches together. Daisy pops out of nowhere and joins the pile on, where Johannah is left perplexed when she enters the room with Ernest on her hip.

The two girls squabble from Louis as their mother tells them to get ready with a warm coat and appropriate footwear, Johannah placing Ernest to his play kit on the shaggy carpet. Louis admires his little brother.

"A trooper, he is," Louis tells her, and his mother agrees with a hum. She sits beside Louis and leans her arm against the back of the couch, viewing her first born. "Already got his hands on that rattle."

"Going to become a little boybander," she laughs. "Just like his proud big brother."

She runs a hair through Louis' fringe, smoothing it out and letting it fall past his eyebrows. "Mum," he coos, a chuckle slipping past his mouth. "Don't think I'd want him getting involved with all of... that. Be nice for a while until the pressure comes in."

"He's a tough one," she says to him. "He scuffed his knees last week and didn't even cry. He'll be able to handle everything the idiots throw at him."

Louis frowns with concern, eyeing Ernest now blinking at his own two, sock covered, feet. He wonders if he ever will fall into the same footsteps as Louis, or maybe Doris will, one of the other girls might. Lottie has already found her place with Lou, and... that's alright besides the nasty comments she receives. The family is tough overall, a barricaded clan in a tight bunch. Even with the shields and armour, the music industry has never failed to seep in and get to Louis. The teary nights with Harry, and only with Harry, explains so much of how fragile he is inside.

He's delicate enough already, metal protection shed from his skin since entering the real, the dark, side of the music business. Despite the armour being taken from him, the weight on his shoulders hasn't disappeared. Without Harry, he doesn't know if he could keep himself upright. It's difficult enough he's not here. It's worse that he's probably asleep right now, probably not thinking about Louis in his childish dreams.

Johannah notices the silence between them, and asks, "How's Harry been?"

And it really wasn't fucking necessary to hear someone else say his name. God, Louis feels so weak. "He's fine," Louis answers in short, words blunt. "He gave me good words, all the like. Same as the other lads, too bad they can't come."

His diversion to the main topic is too blatant, but Johannah doesn't speak a word. "I'm sure he'll be cheering out for you anyway, all the way from over there. Sure you'll be able to hear it too, if you listen close enough."

Louis laughs half-heartedly. "Sure I will."

Louis has left the house by the time Johannah messages him that they're going to pick up his grandfather. He's with Alberto now and a few other managers of the Keepmoat Stadium, running through quick plans to meet with the humble fans behind the gates. He's not listening half the time, most of the run throughs basically repeats of whatever he's heard with his time with One Direction. His attention is focused to Harry instead, frantically texting each other before Harry has to run errands throughout the whole of LA.

They stop by the parking lot, Alberto leading Louis out making sure he doesn't bump his head on the top of the van. In the distance, he can see the huddle of women holding up small pieces of paper - signs - and screaming to the boy trying to hold himself together inside his cargo jacket.

Before his walk out, a man of old age joins them, next to the bloke another idiot in a bear costume and a Donny Rovers t-shirt. Louis is confronted by the mascot, a hand being held out and Louis shaking the... paw. He looks up into the fabricated eyes and nods a hello. The bear doesn't respond. Turns out he's meaning to be follow Louis around a bit today, to promo the club. Louis thinks the guy is a bit of a knob to be throwing shapes every few seconds.

He meets with the fans, taking photos, smiling, hugging, more smiling, trying to keep himself together, signing things, giggling... trying every little bit to make himself at least pumped for the match. The fans are sweet, very sweet. It's different every time, a story to tell later. Time floats by, he leaves the train of fans to enter the stadium. There, he holds the meet and greet planned, the fans as welcoming as the first.

A Hi jumper is presented to him at one point and... well. He signs it with the best hope that there's no squeak of misery that escapes from his throat. He's off yet again, meeting with a group of fans within a VIP box of the stadium. He's not frazzled with the amount of love and luck he's been presented with. He can't seem to take it to heart. Not as easily as he could with all of Harry's words and sweet nothings.

He's left in a quiet, quiet room for final words and pointless tactics between the manager and Alberto. In the corner is James, his eyes gleaming with interest. Really, all he wants is to finish this game and get home to Skype call Harry. He thinks he might have a bit of a cry tonight. Not to gain the sympathy he really does need, but to let it all out, to release. He knows he'll be sad again after he's happy, but after he's sad, he'll be happy.

He's left alone to his own devices, which isn't always the case for Louis. He should go visit his team mates bout tactics, since they are playing a professional game of charity football in a little under an hour. Maybe the chat will lift up the smile that's been hidden deep inside him. Talking to people who know no other than One Direction or his boyfriend aren't too much help in a situation like this. He'd often change into his kit with other people; he's not shy. He just decided that today wasn't the day; he just wants to go home and Skype call Harry.

His kit is on the table in front of him; white bottoms with a Bluebell Wood Hospice t-shirt to fit with. He slides his bottoms on, pants tight around the swell of his arse. Harry would have commented by now, remarking how magnificent his bum looked against the white, maybe circling around him and viewing him up and down with his perverted eyes. Louis wouldn't mind, however. He finds it flattering. Harry falls in love every single time he looks at Louis, he's admitted that once. It makes Louis' heart beat hard against his ribs and Louis isn't too sure if it's from the reminiscent memory or because of the unexpected opening of the door.

Louis is topless, and despite not being so self-conscious of his body, he hides himself behind the given top to wear for the match. It's that stupid bear who has his head peeked through the large opening of the door, a wave being sent to Louis. Louis quirks up an eyebrow and laughs nervously, stepping back into the table.

"Um," Louis wants to tell him to piss off, nicely, but the bear just keeps staring, "hi, sorry... did you need something?"

The bear still doesn't move, and doesn't say a word. Louis beings to feel very self-conscious.

"I'm getting changed, mate. It'll be lovely if you could maybe give me some privacy, please."

Instead of moving out like Louis had kindly asked, the bear moves in, stepping inside the quiet room and clicking the door closed behind him. Louis is left speechless, bum pressing hard against the edge of the table when the bear moves further in. Louis begins to babble.

"H-Hey, what are you doing?" Louis puts a hand up in defense, not like it's much help. It pauses the mascot in his tracks, his head to the side like a confused tilt. Adorable, really. "Mate, this... this is getting weird. Is there something you need?"

"Yeah, I was looking for something," the voice is muffled by the costume. How is the kid still wearing that thing, he wonders. It's hot out. The moron can't be anymore stupid.  
The bear steps into Louis' bubble, Donny shirt at the palm of his hand. Louis blinks and gulps audibly, extremely anxious. Words are choking at his throat, but he manages to finally scream out, "Security!"

The bear didn't seem to comply to Louis' screeches, he doesn't even try to shut Louis up. Louis continues to yell out, completely voicing out the soft "Louis"'s coming from inside the suit. Louis panics and flicks his white shirt at the invasive man, slapping him out of the way and telling him to "piss right off". The man reaches for the shirt, but Louis yanks it back so hard, the shirt rips into two.

Louis stands aghast at the ruined t-shirt. The final scream of "security!" has the bear reaching for the head of the costume, revealing himself to Louis where Louis plans to have his head after the game. Instead, a grinning idiot is bent over with his hands on his thighs, gasping for breath between his laughs. Louis is, once again, left in awe.

He drops the t-shirt when he sees his face. It isn't some sort of practical joke, this isn't a hologram... right? This is him?

"What?" is the first thing he babbles out, unable to comprehend so much. He wonders if security is going to barge in and take him out. Oh god. "Harry?"

"You're absolutely manic, you know?" Harry belittles, but continues to gasp and cackle horrendously at Louis' dumbstruck face. "God, your... your shirt, Lou--"

Louis smacks him in the furry chest, a large thump echoing in the room. "Fucking bastard! What is this? What the-- Harry!"

Harry sends him a closed mouth grin before throwing his hands in the air and shouting, "Surprise!"

Louis absolutely, positively, fucking loves this man with all his heart. He pulls him in by the neck, viciously, and has his mouth on his jawline so fast that it makes Harry lose his breath all over again. Louis bites hard, Harry keening into Louis with a buck of his hips and a groan of ecstasy. Louis looks up and preens to Harry, hands slipping between his arms and holding Harry around his torso.

"Oh my God," Louis whispers, eyes shutting closed as he breathes into Harry's mouth, lips gliding delicately. Fuck, he's missed him. "Oh my God, you're here. You're in the UK."

Harry hums and whispers back, "And my warm welcome was you screeching "security" while being smacked with cotton."

"It's fucking polyester." Louis kisses him roughly and feels for a zipper behind Harry's back. His fingers fumble with the metal, zipping Harry down and releasing himself from his boy to let him step out of the outfit. He's sporting one of those ridiculously spontaneous shirts with literally only two buttons done up at the bottom. As well as too tight jeans that hug his milky thighs. Fuck, he got a tattoo done there the other day. He had completely forgot.

With the costume out of the way, Harry's attached to Louis by the lips again, crashing down into the table behind them. Louis has his hands tight in Harry's hair, soft and fluffy; always so fucking fluffy. His legs are wrapped around his waist with his bum being supported on the table top, Harry's hand cupping underneath them within a matter of seconds. The pants might rip as well, and that'll be disastrous, so it's every reason to get rid of them.

"Wait," Louis sighs, guiding Harry away with the pull of his hair. Louis eyes to the door, still unlocked, and Harry takes action immediately. While doing so, Louis removes the last bit of clothing attached to his body and Harry returns to a naked and half hard man that he's certainly missed more than anything in the world. "I-I've missed you so much."  
"I can tell." Harry eyes down to his cock, twitching with libido and wanting every bit of Harry's mouth. Harry complies swiftly, falling between Louis' legs and kissing both sides of his thighs. "Missed your thighs."

"Missed you," Louis moans, a hand shoveling into Harry's hair again and guiding him up nicely. "I have twenty minutes to get down there, H."

Harry smirks and blinks up to Louis, a little bit of pink from is tongue popping out of his mouth to teasingly lick at Louis' cock. Louis thinks he's fucking atrocious.

"You won't even last five," Harry taunts, finally, and _yesyesyes_ , finally, fitting his mouth around his cock and _oh my word._

He's so fucking good at this and it's always so fucking ridiculous how excellent Harry is at every little thing he does. He takes Louis down all the way in one massive gulp, letting Louis deep throat into his mouth and feel the warmth he's been missing for the past week. He groans and tugs at Harry's hair, pulling him off and shoving him back down to really fuck with his mind.

"Fuck, you're so good at this," Louis praises, hand being removed from his hair and letting Harry take control. That's when things fall into a heated mess.

Harry's hands are spread on Louis' thighs, large enough to cover the soft skin Louis sports. His finger nails go deep into Louis' skin, moon crescents being printed, and he takes Louis right down until his cock is swallowed completely. He bobs up and down, eyes watering up to Louis who looks down for a short second before he throws his head back and moans out blissfully. Always beautiful, Harry thinks. It's only encouragement to please him more.

He fucks his mouth down and takes him fast, mouth watering for the taste of Louis on his tongue. Louis' breathing is whiny but raspy, a mix of absolute desperation and delight. He has his fingers gripping the table so hard his knuckles are as white as his eyes that have rolled to the back of his head. He whispers out a soft "Harry" before a hand returns to its safe place, Harry's hair, and he pulls aggressively to remove Harry's mouth from him.

"Yeah, yeah," Louis whispers heavily, tip at Harry's closed mouth where it remains pink and glossy. He has a hand around himself, fucking his hand with small whimpers are leaving his mouth. Harry's eyes are closed, eyelashes curling prettily to shadow over his rosy cheeks. Fuck, Louis has missed him so much. "Fuck, Harry, you're such... you're-- oh."

Harry licks at his cock again, the fucking minx. Louis has to look at his doe eyes once more before coming over his lips and forcing Harry's mouth open with his cock to drink up the leftovers. Harry takes him down just as easily as the other times, a small quirky smile teetering at his mouth when he pulls away and stands up to kiss Louis messily, and lovingly.

Louis sends him one smacking kiss before opening his eyes and having realization hit him. He has a game in five minutes.

"Fuck you, Louis hisses, slapping his chest and giggling breathlessly. Harry bends down to kiss between his eyebrows.

"Later," Harry mumbles against his skin. "You have a game in five minutes, babe."

He doesn't even try and fight back, finding Harry's mouth once more before hugging him tightly and admitting that he loves the stupid moron with every bit of his heart. Harry helps him change, both finding him a new shirt that's one or two sizes a bit too big and cover over his bum just a bit.

He laces up his boots and pinches Harry's cheeks just before he leaves. Harry taps his little bum, shouting, "Have fun, little duck!" before Louis races towards the elevator of the stadium, quickly making himself look less disheveled, and heading towards the change rooms where he meets with his players.

James is there to clap him on the back, to wish him luck, before he leaves for his own team on the other side of the stadium. Louis grins and nods all his players a hello before they head out to the field for stretching and last minute training.

He spots Harry up in one of the boxes with Liam, Louis grinning up to them and avoids waving to stop any attention from diverting up top. Instead, to catch Harry's attention, he decides maybe a few certain stretches will make him freeze up and realize how much of a mess he's made of Louis today, and every single stupid day they've lived together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is since-he-was-eighteen. always up for a message or whatever. i hope this was okay! x


End file.
